I had arrived early for the midnight Fung Wah bus back to Boston. The only problem was, there was no midnight Fung Wah back to Boston. It didn’t exist. It was a figment of improperly reading a bus schedule. Fuck.
I called my friend Nick, “ Are you near a computer?” A dubious question at close to midnight on a Sunday. A bus could be obtained, Nick told me, at the Port Authority. The only problem was the Port Authority was three miles away, and I had very little money, fifteen dollars actually: the price of a bus ticket.
Nick read me the Google directions and fortunately it was mostly one street. An hour later, I came upon it. There it was, Time Square. Giant electronic monoliths dedicated to capitalism surrounded me. They silently blinked in the night, feigning the brightness of day. It was an eerie sight, this modern monument of consumerism devoid of crowds. There were a few stragglers here and there; someone dressed in a full Ghostbusters costume. The amazement of what is a pretty impressive sight was lost on me. The three mile trek and being stuck in New York sucked all the curiosity and interest out of my very first time in Time Square.
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